


Schlägerei

by Zethsaire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Aftermath of Torture, Alive Laura Hale, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Derek, Asexual Relationship, Cage Fights, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Fluid Derek, Gender Identity, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Character Death, Mythology - Freeform, Nature Magic, Pack Dynamics, Past Rape/Non-con, Permanent Injury, Scent Marking, Torture, Wolf Derek Hale, Wolf Pack, pit fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zethsaire/pseuds/Zethsaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Argents have diverted from their Code; instead of killing the monsters, they exploit them in an underground fighting ring for money.  Stiles brings the ring down, but in the process Derek is terribly injured.  Stiles has to help him adjust to life as a permanently injured Alpha.</p><p>UNFINISHED/ABANDONED.</p><p>Yeah, no, sorry.  Teen Wolf Season 4+ just killed this fandom for me.  :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ein

**Author's Note:**

> All you really need to know is the Argents, instead of killing creatures, capture them and pit them against each other in an illegal underground fighting ring. Everything else should make sense as we go along!
> 
> Alternate Universe notes: Canon diverts...after Season 2? Ish? Jackson was the Kanima; you'll find out his backstory later, Scott/Allison are seniors in highschool, Stiles is older, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson and Lydia have just graduated highschool. All the creatures/villians they fought were caught by the Argents and exploited.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Language, mentions of torture, permanent injury.
> 
> Thanks to DangerousCommieSubversive, who beta'd this even though she's not part of the fandom. :3
> 
> Edit: Stiles demands to be written in present tense. So I've edited the chapter and re-written it in present tense.

“It's not healing. Why isn't it healing?” Stiles grits out, as he helps Derek hobble away from what is rapidly becoming a crime scene. They'd want to interview them, and Derek isn't really looking too up for that right now. In fact, he doesn't look like he's up for much of anything.  
  
“I don't know.” Derek gasps back. His face is pale, pale like death, and he's trembling. “It just _hurts_.”  
  
“You're not bleeding black, so it's not wolfsbane poisoning. What did they do to you in there?” Stiles asks softly, as he helps Derek into his Jeep, grinding his teeth at Derek's moans of pain.  
  
Derek snarls, his eyes flashing red, and looks out the window.  
  
“Ooookay then. Guess we won't talk about that. I hope you at least plan on telling Deaton, so he can patch you up. He will be able to patch you up, won't he?”  
  
“I don't know.”  
  
Stiles opens his mouth, then shuts it and grips the steering wheel tightly. He speeds off as fast as he can without attracting attention, feeling bad for leaving his all too human dad to figure out the mess they'd left behind. A supernatural underground fighting ring run by the Argent family isn't going to be easy to cover up, and honestly, Stiles doesn't think he wants them too. Hopefully having it all out in the open won't come back to bite them in the ass, but some of the things that had been going on there were barbaric, to say the least. Stiles is just glad they got Derek out.  
  
Now they just had to keep him alive.  
  
They pull into the vet's office, where Scott is waiting for them, his whole body one big anxious question. Stiles...might have hexed him when he'd gone in to rescue Derek and left Scott behind. Technically, since Scott isn't part of Derek's pack, he's been safe under Deaton's protection, and the fact that he was currently dating Allison. Stiles hadn't wanted to take the risk that Scott would be reclassified as a threat in the event he'd failed.  
  
“Stiles! What the _hell_ is going on – oh my god! Derek? What happened?”  
  
“Kate was torturing him. He won't tell me what she did,” Stiles informs him, groaning as he takes most of Derek's weight on the way out of the car.  
  
“I'm right _here_.”  
  
“And unless you're going to tell me what she did, the statement stands.”  
  
“Just – get me inside.”  
  
They are already half-way there. Stiles rolls his eyes. He knows Derek is in pain and probably terrified about the fact that he isn't healing. And because he's Derek he chooses to express this weakness with angry words and telling Stiles what to do, even though Stiles isn't one of his Betas, and Stiles is doing it anyway.  
  
Deaton is already prepping the exam table, so he'd known they were coming. That isn't really a surprise; the man knows everything. Stiles is a little surprised he wasn't at the scene, trying to help who he could, but above all Deaton practices neutrality. He will probably help heal anyone who manages to make it to him, but refuse to take a side. More than once Deaton has tried to get Stiles to agree to be neutral, too, but with a best friend and a lover who are both werewolves, Stiles knows that is never going to be an option for him.  
  
“Lay him on the table, if you would please, Stiles.”  
  
“On it.”  
  
Scott comes over to help him, which earns him a snarl and an angry snap of Derek's teeth. Scott scowls at him while Stiles struggles to hold up Derek's weight, and Derek finally lets them both help him up onto the table. He flinches when Deaton lays his hands on him, probing around gently at Derek's wounds.  
  
“If you could tell me what happened Derek, it would help me help you.”  
  
“Not with Stiles and Scott here.”  
  
“Oh, come _on_ , Derek!” Stiles protests. He is a big boy, and he's tended to Derek's wounds for months! He can handle it.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mr. Stillinski, I'm going to have to ask you and Scott to step into my office so I can have a talk with Derek.”  
  
“But!”  
  
“Now, please.” Deaton's voice is quiet, but full of power. Stiles instinctively takes a step back, and then sighs,  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Stiles grumbles, and pulls Scott into Deaton's office. As soon as the door is shut, a silencing spell kicks in, and there goes Stiles' plan to take advantage of Scott's werewolf healing. He shoot his friend a look, just in case Scott can hear something, somehow. Scott shrugs.   
  
Shit.  
  
xxx  
  
Derek explains what was done to him in short, clipped tones. He feels dead inside; detached from what was done to him. He knows he'll feel the all too familiar rage soon enough, but for now he just – doesn't want to think about it.  
“You're going to lose the eye.”  
  
Derek swallows, “Do you have to take it out?”  
  
“I shouldn't have to remove the eye; it will heal. But I can't save your vision.”  
  
He bites back the snarl. “What. Else.”  
  
“I'm going to splint your right arm so it heals properly, though I might have to re-break it later if it doesn't heal correctly. But your leg, Derek...”  
  
Kate had taken a sledgehammer to it. He can't put weight on it, and he's pretty sure the severity of the wound is the reason he can't heal. “I don't want to be a fucking cripple.”  
  
“You need surgery.”  
  
“I'm not going to a hospital.”  
  
“I can't be certain without x-rays, but based on your lack of healing, I believe you have a comminuted fracture. If you don't get surgery, and you don't bleed out on the table, you could permanently crippled, Derek.”  
  
“Don't you perform surgery on dogs?”  
  
“You're a bit bigger than that, Derek. You need a specialist.”  
  
Derek grit his teeth and closes his good eye. "Fine. What do we do?"  
  
xxx  
  
The whole thing requires quite a lot more planning than Derek would have liked. It involves crashing his motorcycle, which he hasn't used since before the Argents took him away. Then Deaton has Derek bleed everywhere, and then Scott trashes the place, so it looks like Derek has been mauled after the crash. It still isn't foolproof, but it's the best they are going to get, and Derek has already passed out twice from pain and blood loss. He doesn't know how humans do it, if this is what it means to not have a healing factor.  
  
As soon as the scene is set, Deaton starts patching up the worst of Derek's injuries, as if he'd been on his way home and had stopped to help, and Scott called 911. Stiles parks his jeep like he'd come speeding up after hearing what happened, and helped Deaton as much as he could, gripping Derek's hand tightly and reeking of pain and worry.  
  
"You're gonna be okay, Derek, okay? You're gonna be alright."  
  
He can hear the sirens in the distance. Everything is getting sort of fuzzy, and from the way everything is ringing in his ears and the black spots dancing in his vision, Derek is pretty sure he's going to pass out again.  
  
"Don't let them -" his voice is slurred and he doesn't even know if Stiles can understand him, "just - follow the plan."  
  
"I will Derek. I won't let them give you anything you can't have. Baby, stay awake. C'mon, you can do it. Just stay awake until they get here."  
  
"Can't."   
  
And the darkness swallows him.  
  
xxx  
  
Stiles does his best to follow the plan, and let the paramedics do their job. He has a list in his pocket from Deaton of all the drugs that won't work on Derek, so he can tell them he was allergic. But when they try to take Derek in the back of the ambulance without him he fights and swears and freaks out and plays the fiancee card and the my dad is the sheriff card until they finally give up and let Stiles ride in the back with them.  
  
He rattles off all the medication Derek can't have and as much of his medical history as he knows, but he doesn't know Derek's insurance or social security number, or if he even has those things. It wasn't like he'd had his wallet on him in the pit. He's trying not to panic, and not let go of Derek's hand while still not being in the way of the paramedics.  
  
Deaton has inked a mark on the inside of Derek's ankle that is supposed to keep Derek's healing from kicking in during the surgery. If he healed, Deaton said his arm would be all right, but Deaton was concerned about his leg healing wrong and crippling him. Stiles doesn't know what to think. He wants Derek not to die, but he also knows Derek won't want to survive if he can't heal. Which is totally selfish and humans have to deal with permanent injury all the time, so where does he get off being that way about it? Stiles just wants him to be okay. They haven't gotten past second base yet, for Christ's sake. He can't die now.  
  
They force Stiles into the waiting room once they reach the hospital. Stiles goes, rather ungratefully, and only by reminding himself that Derek needs this surgery. He paces until Scott gets there, and then he paces around Scott.  
  
Derek's pack shows up after the second hour, all looking as anxious and stressed as Stiles feels. He hugs each of them, even Jackson, who is scowling like he doesn't want to be there. Isaac holds him the longest, because of all of them, he'd actually been there, in the pit. He'd seen what Derek had looked like, all mangled and beaten. Then he and Stiles had gone after Kate, and he'd ripped her throat out while Stiles held her down. He doesn't regret it.  
  
"Is he going to be okay?" Isaac’s voice is small and scared.  
  
"Yeah," Stiles says, because he refuses to put any contrary idea out into the universe. "He's going to be alright. We just have to wait."  
  
They end up taking up half the waiting room. Erica is in Stiles' lap, Isaac is pressed into his right side and practically on top of him, Boyd on his left, a pillar of quiet strength. Scott is in the chair behind him, separate from the pack but offering support through a hand on Stiles' shoulder. Jackson is further away, one seat between him and Boyd, with Lydia next to him.  
  
The last thing Stiles had expected is his dad showing up. He'd moved out of the house a year and a half ago, when

they'd gotten into a huge fight about Stiles choosing to go into practice as a professional witch. Well, technically Stiles isn't a witch, or a druid, like Deaton. He's probably a shaman but honestly, no one has really been able to tell him. He uses whatever magic will work for him, and generally serves as an all purpose handyman for the supernatural. He's never been good at healing but after this, he's damn well going to learn.  
  
Someone must have called his dad, though, because he should have been busy with the fighting ring for the night. Instead he bursts into the hospital on the fifth hour of Derek's surgery, right when Stiles is getting stressed enough that even the pack isn't helping. His dad looks tired, and old, and Stiles immediately feels a surge of guilt for not helping his human dad figure all this out, even if the sheriff wouldn't have wanted his help.  
  
"Stiles! What the hell is going on?"  
  
"Um. Hey, Dad. How'd you know I was here?"  
  
"We need to talk. Outside, now."  
  
"...are you arresting me?"  
  
"Just come outside."  
  
Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I'll be right back guys. Come get me if someone says anything about Derek. Boyd, you're in charge."  
  
"I'll take care of it," the big werewolf says. His quiet confidence gives Stiles strength.   
  
He deposits Erica on Boyd's lap, ruffles Isaac's hair and exchanges a few meaningful glances with Scott and Jackson before following his dad outside. He's relieved when no one tries to arrest him, because he has technically been working for the Argents, and, you know, committed a homicide or two. And juries don't exactly believe the 'but they were monsters' defense.  
  
“Would you care to explain to me why I got a call from one of the nurses that my son's fiancee was being taken in for surgery?”  
  
Oh. Well...he could be mad about worse things. “Um. Well...he's not my fiancee  _per se_ -”  
  
“Stiles! We've talked about misappropriation of resources!”  
  
“It wasn't misappropriated! Derek was really injured. He's been in surgery for five hours! And he  _is_ my boyfriend! And we're – we're – it's complicated.”  
  
“Derek? What, so you're gay now?”  
  
His dad doesn't believe him. Of all the things that Stiles has lied about, this is the sticking point? “I'm bi, dad, and that's so not relevant right now.”  
  
“I swear to god, Stiles, if this is another attempt to cover one of your  _special friends_ , I'm going to -” His dad stops, and just shakes his head, an expression of deep disappointment crossing his face.  
  
So maybe Stiles' poker face needs some work. He sort of flinches when his Dad says 'special,' both because he hates it when his dad refers to his clients that way, but also because that is sort of exactly what is going on.  
  
“There are proper  _channels,_ Stiles. You can't just do whatever you want and sweep it under the rug.”  
  
“Seriously, Dad? What else am I supposed to do? I'm not a doctor! Sometimes people need medical attention, or a crime solved, or need help working around some kind of government system. Except werewolves and banshees don't always have social security numbers, you know? Am I supposed to just let them die?! Someone has to look out for them!”  
  
“Banshees, Stiles, really? That's what we're going with? Is Derek a banshee?”  
  
“Oh my god, no. Derek is not a banshee. I don't know why – why you don't believe me! After what you saw tonight you gotta at least be wondering, and -”  
  
And that was the deadly serious Sheriff face. Shit. “And what do you know about tonight, Stiles? Were you there?”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“Why. Why are you involved in  _everything?_ Can't a father just have some peace? Please tell me I don't need to arrest you.”  
  
“Well, I wasn't running the place if that's what you mean.”  
  
_“Stiles.”_   
  
“Look, I'm not gonna incriminate myself, okay? You taught me better than that. So unless you have some proof, I'm gonna go wait for Derek to get out of surgery.”  
  
“Don't be like that, Stiles.”  
  
“Well how else do you want me to be, Dad?! You basically just threatened to arrest me!”  
  
It could have gone a lot worse after that, but Isaac comes rushing out of the hospital and tugs on Stiles' sleeve. “Stiles, he's out of surgery.”  
  
“Look, Dad, I gotta go. So unless you have a warrant? Yeah. Bye.” His heart wrenches at leaving his dad there, but he just can't deal with that right now. His dad isn't any more ready to accept the supernatural than he'd been when Stiles had graduated, and Derek needs him.  
  
"They won't let us in to see him, but he's been asking for you."  
  
"I'll check on him, and find out when you guys can go in and see him, ok?"  
  
"Thanks, Stiles. You're a really good Alpha."  
  
"Uh. Thanks Isaac. But I um. Don't think it's official yet. I still have to talk to Derek about it."  
  
"Yeah well, if he doesn't agree, Erica said she'd sit on him. We took a vote."  
  
They took a vote. Oh, Derek would hate that. Stiles holds back a snicker. "I'll tell him."  
  
Isaac gives him a half smile back, and goes to sit with the pack. Stiles follows a tired looking nurse back to Derek's room. At least it's a single; Derek would be a nightmare to share a room with. Derek is laying back on the bed, propped up by a bunch of cushions, a thick bandage over his eye, a cast on his right arm, and his right leg slightly elevated. It's more than a little disturbing to see Derek like this, when he's always healed from his wounds in an hour, at the most.  
  
“Hey Derek. How are you?”  
  
“S'ls.” Derek slurs. “D y'no yur beu't'ful?”  
  
“Wow. They've got you on the good drugs, don't they. Bet you feel pretty good huh?”  
  
“Feels....weird.”  
  
Stiles smiles, and sits down next to Derek's bed. He reaches out and says, “yeah, that's sedatives for you. Have you ever even been sedated before?”  
  
“Mm. Wsn't as fun, tho.”  
  
He'd probably been sedated in the pit. To keep him under control after fights, and during the full moon. Maybe even while they'd tortured him. Stiles bites back an apology. Derek won't want his pity, and he probably won't even understand what Stiles is apologizing for right now.  
  
“How...l'ng I gotta...stay here?”  
  
“I don't know...I'll ask the nurse for you later. Probably a couple of days. They should let your pack come visit you tomorrow.”  
  
“Dun...wanna stay that long. W'na go home.”  
  
“Well, all your things are in storage. But, you know, I have an extra room. You can stay with me.”  
  
“Mm. Stay?”  
  
“I don't know if they'll let me, but I will if I can.”  
  
“Stay. Please.”  
  
"Okay. I will." He isn't sure how difficult it's going to be at this point, but he'll make it happen somehow. He and Melissa are still on good terms; maybe she can pull some strings. He doesn't know how much Scott really told her about what happened. Melissa knows about werewolves, and she knows Stiles had gotten in a fight with his dad about magic a while ago, but they haven't really gone into detail about it.  
  
He waits until Derek slips back into sleep before he gets up and goes to the nurse's station. The nurse on duty is Cindy; he doesn't know her very well, but she knows he's a friend of Scott's.  
  
"Stiles, I didn't know you were visiting. I haven't seen Scott around, did something happen?"  
  
"Hey Cindy. No, Scott's fine. I'm uh, actually here with Derek, room 307? He's my fiancee."  
  
Her eyebrows raise, but she doesn't immediately say anything negative, so he plows ahead. "Derek's really never been in a hospital before, except when...um...his family was here." Stiles doesn't know if Cindy had been a nurse here for the Hale fire, when Derek's brother had been in intensive care for two weeks before dying of complications. If she hadn't he really doesn't want to explain.  
  
"Anyways, he wanted to know if I could stay the night?"  
  
She smiles. "Hospital policy permits one visitor to stay overnight. You'll have to wear a badge and provided clothes, but we can get you a cot."  
  
"Thanks Cindy. Um. He's got some friends who have been waiting with me all night to make sure he came through surgery okay. They won't stay long but could they just come back and see him?"  
  
She seems to consider this a moment. "All right, Stiles, but I'm holding you personally accountable for anything that happens. And they can't stay for more than fifteen minutes! They can come back tomorrow during visiting hours."  
  
"Oh my god, thank you so much! We'll be quiet, I swear. Thank you!"  
  
"Yes, yes, you're welcome. Now go get them so they can go home. And be quiet! Patients are sleeping!"  
  
He manages to restrain himself from sprinting down the hall, but once he hits the waiting room he announces, "you guys can come see Derek!"  
  
The pack practically leaps out of their seats, and Stiles yelps, "we have to be quiet! And we only get fifteen minutes, then you guys have to go home!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Show us his room already!" Erica teases.  
  
Despite their rambunctious start, the pack is almost eerily silent as Stiles leads them up to Derek's room. Apparently none of them want to ruin their chance to see their alpha. With the exception of Isaac, they haven't been within touching distance of him in almost two years.  
  
Derek is sleeping when they all come in, but at the soft cries of worry and four hands touching him at once, his eyes blink open. Stiles stands back with Scott and Lydia to give the wolves in the pack some room to greet their Alpha.   
  
"Ur all here..." Derek says, still very much under the influence. "Missed you."  
  
"We missed you too, stupid. So much!" Erica is blinking back tears.   
  
"Though once we see more of you I'm sure you'll get on our nerves again," Boyd says with a smirk. Jackson snorts at that, but he doesn't pull his hand away from Derek.  
  
They look like they all want to scent mark him, but it's impossible with all the tubes and wires and bandages. Derek blinks a few times, and finally raises his good arm. To an outsider, the

sight of the pack enthusiastically rubbing themselves all over Derek's arm would be bizarre at the least, but it almost makes Stiles cry. When they'd found the time to talk in the pit, which wasn't often, Derek had expressed his worry about his pack, and fear that they might be considered omegas because they didn't smell like him any more.  
  
"Does it hurt?" Isaac asks, when Derek finally puts his arm down.  
  
"Mmm...no. Stiles says 'm on the good drugs. Did you know he's got a nice ass?"  
  
Everyone snickers, and Lydia says, "he's right, you are on the good drugs."  
  
"Okay guys, the nurses are giving me dirty looks, so you guys should go. Visiting hours are tomorrow at one, so meet back here then. Boyd, you've got my keys, can you put a sign on the shop door? Tell people to go to Simon's if it's an emergency. Isaac, can you bring me some clean clothes? Erica, look in Derek's storage unit for Derek's insurance papers, social security card, anything like that. Jackson, talk to your dad about what I'd need to do to take over Derek's accounts while he's recovering, and where we might find out who's care they're in right now. Derek should be going home in a few days; we'll figure out more then."  
  
Everyone murmurs their consent, and files out towards the waiting room. Scott stays behind for a moment, an anxious look on his face. "Allison texted me to say that she was okay, but Stiles, her mom, her aunt and her grandfather were all killed in that fire. She says she doesn't blame me but she's not answering any of my texts. I don't know what to do."  
  
Stiles wishes he felt worse about Allison losing family. He was directly involved in the death of Gerard and Kate, and while he'd like to say he was sorry, now that he knows exactly what they'd been up to, he doesn't feel any remorse except that generally sick feeling he gets whenever he has to kill another sentient being, even an evil one. He hadn't known about Allison's mother though, and Stiles wonders what, exactly, had killed her. They'd tried to euthanize all the truly dangerous creatures, all the ones who were too inherently dangerous or too far gone to release with causing mass homicide. That doesn't mean one of the others hadn't decided to exact a little revenge against the Argent family. Stiles wouldn't blame them if they had.  
  
"Go home and try to get some sleep. I know you want to go to her, but resist. There's going to be a whole bunch of legal things going down, and her dad might shoot you if you try to get involved right now. Let Allison know you're there for her, but give her some space, okay? She needs to grieve, and even if you're not responsible, you're still involved. You can come see me anytime you need to, okay?"  
"Yeah...Okay." Stiles can tell Scott isn't very happy with his answer. "I hope Derek gets better soon."  
  
"Thanks, Scott."  
  
"Night, Stiles."  
  
"Night."  
  
Stiles watches him go, then helps the nurse bring in the cot and set it up next to Derek's bed. He gets dressed in the clothes they provide him and clips on his name tag before laying down for the two or three hours of sleep he's likely to get. He reaches over and grabs Derek's hand, which makes Derek stir, but not wake. He doesn't let go until the nurse wakes him for the morning rounds.

  
  


 


	2. Zwei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of torture, abuse and permanent injury. Fictional magic use.
> 
> Magic in my fic is a conglomeration of things. I've tried to make it my own, basing it off my own experiences and my imagination, and not to base it off any current or past religion, so as not to offend anyone who actually practices magic. If there is still something you find offensive, feel free to let me know so I can address it.
> 
> This chapter is self-beta'd, but I went through it several times, so hopefully it's ok!

When not sedated, Derek is apparently a terrible patient. Stiles wakes to the sounds of screaming and deep, full snarls and has about three seconds to take in the situation before leaping into action. He stretches his hands out in a sweeping motion and concentrates on silence, secrecy and concealment. With a pop the barrier snaps into place, which should keep anyone else from rushing in to investigate.  
  
His next priority is Derek, because while the nurse might be terrified, she can't actually hurt anyone. Derek, on the other hand, is half shifted, his claws and fangs out, and he's ripping out all of his very important iv and monitoring lines. He's furious and in a lot of pain, and Stiles is afraid he's going to try to dig the metal rod out of his leg.  
  
Stiles manages to grab him by the temples, but not before Derek has scored a deep line of pain down Stiles' arm and fuck, he's going to have to treat that so he doesn't turn. He forces all his panic and rage into pure will and says, "Sleep," in a voice that sounds like pure energy. Derek's features melt back to human and he is unconscious in seconds.  
  
He has to take a minute and press his good hand to his jagged forearm wound and whisper the cleansing spell he'd learned from Simon furiously. This isn't the first time he's been infected, but he's never sure the ritual is actually going to work until he sees the black infection bubble out of the wound and dissipate, the wound closing up behind it.  
  
He's starting to get tired, because even by itself the cleansing ritual takes a lot out of him, but he's not done yet. The nurse has stopped screaming and moved on to pure, catatonic terror, where she's just staring at them like they're something out of a nightmare. She's only human, so it's a lot easier to take control of her mind. He wipes clean all her memories, back to when Derek turned in front of her, and replaces them with Derek being a typically belligerent patient who had needed sedating. After the wipe she pulls herself together and hooks back up his monitors, muttering under her breath about ungrateful patients.  
  
Stiles' vision swims and he sits down with a gasp. That really fucking took it out of him. That's the last time he's ever going to alter someone's memories because hot damn, he hurts. The magical part of him feels fucking bruised, and is loudly reminding him that he hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday.  
  
He re-absorbs the barrier, and it gives him just enough energy to make it to the cafeteria, where he goes straight for the honey packets. He eats like five of them before he feels like he can go through the line like a normal person. Luckily this is a hospital, so no one stops him, though one of the servers asks, "low blood sugar?" And gives him a second helping of pancakes when he nods.  
  
The food actually tastes pretty good, for which Stiles is enormously grateful. After that little stunt this morning there is no way Derek is going to be out of his sight for more than an hour at a time, or Stiles will have to wipe the entire hospital and he doesn't really think he's up for that. Once he's eaten three or four breakfasts and is no longer on the verge of passing out, he gets out his phone and dials Boyd.  
  
"Stiles. Everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Well no, but it's okay at the moment. I just need you to go with Isaac to my house and bring me one of my tonics. You know what they look like, right?"  
  
"Little blue bottle, smells like death?"  
  
"Yep, that's the one."  
  
"Sure. Don't you only need those when you've used a ton of magic? Did something happen?"  
  
"No no everything's peachy. Just used a lot of magic last night that's all," he lies, knowing Boyd can't hear his heartbeat over the phone.  
  
"Uh huh." Boyd doesn't sound convinced. "I'll bring it first thing."  
  
"Thanks man." He hangs up, before the conversation can get more awkward.  
  
He heads back upstairs because Derek is incapable of keeping himself out of trouble without Stiles. Case in point; when he gets back to the room, there's a doctor and two nurses trying to put Derek in restraints. Derek is awake, but clearly drugged out of his mind. Stiles immediately regrets telling them what sedatives would be effective.  
  
"Hey, hey! What are you doing?"  
  
"Mr. Hale needs to be restrained for his own safety, and the safety of the staff."  
  
Oh they were not going to give Stiles that blase politically correct bullshit answer. "You can't restrain him. Derek has serious emotional trauma centered around being restrained!"   
  
Which is totally true, but they don't know that. So he pushes the suggestion at them magically, putting that edge of 'believe me' to his words. This kind of magic is one he's been doing for years, mostly unintentionally. He's never really been a good liar, so he hadn't really understood why people kept believing his lies, until he realized he'd been doing magic the whole time.  
  
Usually it's the easiest spell to cast; it's just part of him. But today his magic is low, and they're really skeptical; his head spins with the effort, his stomach churns, and he thinks he might throw up. But it works. The doctor notes something down in Derek's file that Stiles might regret later, and the nurses take the restraints off.  
  
"Thanks. I'll make sure he behaves. He just needs a familiar face sometimes."  
  
"Make sure he does, Mr Stillinski. I won't have him injuring the staff."  
  
"He won't. Look, is there any way we can get him out of here soon? He'll do better at home."  
  
"He needs to stay the rest of the day, so we can make sure he's not going to get an infection, and then the day after that he'll need to be fitted with crutches and taught to walk in them. If, after that, he's still doing alright, we can talk about getting him home."  
  
Stiles nods, and immediately wishes he hadn't. He uses all his willpower not to throw up right there. The moment the staff leave he bolts to the bathroom and gets sick for nearly ten minutes straight. It's the nasty green color that always means Stiles had severely strained his magical side, and he vows not to do any more magic until Boyd gets there with his tonic. Unless it's life or death.   
  
He collapses into his chair and passes out. He doesn't really mean to, it's just after all the magic and everything, he can't quite keep his eyes open. He leans back in the chair for just a second, just to close his eyes until he can catch his breath. Then everything goes black.  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
Derek's voice wakes him, and he jolts awake. His head is pounding and his stomach is still churning. The pack is all here, and they're looking at him with

concern from their various perches on Derek's bed. Jackson is over against the wall by the door, pretending he doesn't care. Isaac looks like he going to get up and go to him, but Derek holds him back. Boyd gives him the vial he asked for, with concern covering his features.   
  
Stiles doesn't explain, he just takes the potion and swallows it quickly. It tastes disgusting, as usual. But he feels better almost instantly, his ...whatever it is that handles his magic soothed by the ingredients of the potion. “Hey guys, what's up?”  
  
“Don't pull that shit, Stiles.” Derek growls, “I woke up and you were passed out, and then Boyd comes in and tells me you needed a potion for over-extending yourself.”  
  
“Wha? No, it was from last night. I didn't – I – dammit. You and your stupid lie detecting.”  
  
Derek manages to do that stupid judging eyebrow raise, even though one of his eyes is covered in gauze. Stiles squirms under his stare, and the collective gaze of the pack. It's not fair; they've been back with Derek for all of two days and they're already becoming an extension of his will. Stiles would be proud, if they weren't using that against him.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn't wolf out in the hospital, and then I wouldn't have to do so much magic to cover it up.” Stiles hisses, instead.  
  
“I wolfed out?”  
  
“Yeah. They wanted to put you in restraints.”  
  
There is fear in Derek's eyes. “When can I go home?”  
  
“You have to stay today and tomorrow, but if you behave and learn to walk in your crutches, you can go home after that. And you're awfully talkative for someone who wasn't coherent at all yesterday. Did you take your sedatives out?”  
  
“I turned his painkillers off for now,” Erica admits, “I've seen the doctors do it to me often enough. As cute as he is on the meds, we ...well we haven't seen him in forever, and the meds aren't helping.”  
  
Reestablishing the pack bond is important, but Stiles is worried about Derek being off his painkillers. Without painkillers his body won't heal right. He's just about to say something, when he notices that each of the pack members have a hand on Derek's injuries – Isaac's are up by his eye, Erica's holding onto his arm, and Boyd's pulling pain from his leg. Well, it's good that someone's on that, anyway.  
  
“Look, Stiles. No offense, but you reek. You should go home and get a shower. Visiting hours are practically all day; we can stay with Derek for a while.”  
  
Stiles realizes he's still got Derek's blood on him, on the shirt he's wearing under his hospital scrubs. He doesn't really want to leave Derek but...they've got a point. And while he could shower here, he's trying to make a case for being responsible enough to bring Derek home with him. So that isn't going to fly. Maybe he should go home, have another potion, have a shower, get some food. Call Simon about Derek's physical therapy. There's no way a human therapist is going to cut it.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah okay. Did you find Derek's insurance card?”  
  
Erica smiles and hands Stiles a worn leather wallet. “Derek is disgustingly organized. His storage unit is labeled, meticulously. He even labeled his porn.”  
  
Derek blushed. “What? You didn't look at it, did you?”  
  
“No, of course not,” she says, and even Stiles can tell she's lying.  
  
“Right...well, Jackson, what did your dad say?”  
  
Jackson looks startled that someone is talking to him. Stiles doesn't think he really considers himself part of the pack, which makes sense from what he's heard from the others. Apparently Jackson is not only not friends with any of them, he's actively bullied all of them at some point during high school, even though Erica and Boyd were two years ahead of him. He'd been in middle school when Stiles was in high school, so the kid hadn't even registered on Stiles' radar, beyond Scott complaining about him. He isn't sorry they'd taken him in, though. Jackson is much better off in their pack where they can keep an eye on him.  
  
“Um...the Hale's lawyer actually works at my dad's firm. He's got some paperwork Derek needs to sign, and some you need to sign, and then you can set up a meeting with him. I uh. Brought it.” He offers up a manilla folder like a peace offering, and flinches when Stiles touches him.  
  
“Thanks Jackson. You did good.”  
  
“Yeah. Sure.” He looks away.  
  
“If you have time to look over these while you're not drugged, Derek, I'd appreciate it. But we can wait till later, if you need to.”  
  
“I'll take a look at them.”  
  
Stiles puts the folder on the table next to Derek's bed, then leans in to give him a deep kiss. Stiles ignores Erica's wolf whistle. “I'll be back later, okay?”  
  
“I'll be here.”

  
Ha. Derek is so funny. Stiles needs coffee.  
  
He makes it home, has a nice long shower and finally gets all the blood out from under his fingernails. He sorts through all his mail and voice mails, and notes down who he needs to call back. Most of the cases he's working on can wait a few days, and he's on a light load anyway, since he was working undercover for the vampire Marquis Vassily, trying to get his niece out of the pit. Scary as fuck, but filthy rich; Stiles has done a few jobs for him before. Speaking of which, yes, that is his check. Glad to see something is working out, at least. Now he can pay his mortgage payment.  
  
Next is dinner, and he's glad he stopped at the house because most of his fresh food is going bad. So he chops everything up as fast as he can and makes a quick stew while he makes his calls. Then he shovels down his food, because it's been a few hours already and he really wants to get back to the hospital. But first, he needs to go meditate, because with all the magic he's used he's way off center, and it'll be better for everyone if he gets his shit under control.  
  
He goes down to his basement, where his work room is, and takes off his shoes, letting his feet touch the bare earth floor. Immediately he feels – better. It's so easy to let his center wander, to get pulled away from his focus by his ADHD, by other people and things. He takes a few deep breaths, and crosses the floor to the middle of the work room. There are three circles set into the floor; a large one made of buried mountain ash that takes up most of the room, then the next smaller one of iron, and the last of silver. That had been a hell of an expense to explain away on his tax forms.  
  
Even with everything that's happened, it's surprisingly easy to sink down to the ground, press his feet and hands into the dirt, and just...let everything else go. He's always had a connection to the earth, but it's been much more intense since he actually started doing magic. Touching bare earth just helps him focus, calm down, and refill himself. His meditation isn't really like anything else he's ever come across. He doesn’t really try to clear his mind, or hum tones or phrases like he's seen other people do. He just thinks about sinking his roots deep into the earth, as deep as he can go, and then tilting his head back and letting in the sun that streams down through the windows at the top of the basement walls. Then he just...lets himself soak up sun and nutrients from the earth and grow.  
  
He probably spends an hour down there, he's not really sure. Coming back out of his trance and back into the real world is always sort of jarring at first. He stands and stretches, and then sort of shakes himself and heads back upstairs. He's thinking about everything he's going to need to bring Derek home when he looks up at his circular staircase. Aw, shit.  
  
When he bought the place he thought the spiral staircase was the best thing ever. Well, actually he still really likes it. The bottom of the shop is the office; he's got books everywhere, some chairs, cushions, some crazy décor. He likes his office to feel...homey, you know? He really wasn't trying for a witchy feel, that just sort of happened by itself. Maybe it was something about having magical ingredients in the place, or that he does so much magic here, that he tied himself to the house, and his magic is earth based, he doesn't know. His house has practically melded into the woods around it, plants growing everywhere. Potted plants he doesn't remember buying will just show up, on every surface, and there are vines and flowers growing out of the walls and between the bookshelves. It gives the whole place an ethereal feel.  
  
The staircase is right in the middle of the house, and it's wreathed in ivy and roses, trailing all the way up the wrought iron. The second floor is his apartment, and it's open, with just a railing separating it from the downstairs. He can sit in his living room and look down across his shop; he loves it. The bedroom has walls, but there's still a huge window taking up almost the entire wall, and he can lay in bed and watch the sun set. He wouldn't change it for anything.  
  
Except it's going to be very difficult for Derek to get upstairs.  
  
Well...he is a magic-y person, and his house is sort of magic-y. It already helps him with the wards; keeping out people he doesn't want in the shop if he asks. Maybe it can help Derek upstairs? He's only been living in the place for three years, so it isn't going to be like Simon's house, where the mage can just add and remove rooms at will. Stiles doesn't have the power for that sort of thing. But maybe he can help Derek. Derek is important to him, and his house does like to make him happy, so maybe...just maybe...  
  
How do you even ask your house to make the stairs work for someone on crutches? He sits down on the first step and puts a hand on each of the hand rails. He closes his eyes and just thinks about Derek. He projects how important Derek is to him, how close they are even though they've only known each other for a couple of months. Then he thinks about Derek's injuries, and

how hard it's going to be for him just to walk, much less climb stairs. He feels...something from the house, not like words or even a feeling, but sort of a ...concern. The ivy has crawled across his hands, and the roses turn their blossoms towards him, like the house is listening to him. He feels the wash of magic leaving him, coming up from his still bare feet against the wooden floor, going out through his fingers into the plants and hand rails.  
  
He opens his eyes.  
  
He's on the top step of the staircase now. He stands up and looks over the railing at his shoes, which are still sitting where he'd left them next to the bottom step. Hesitantly, he sits back on the top step, and thinks about Derek. There's that same tingle of magic, less this time, and when he opens his eyes again he's back on the bottom step. He has the best house ever.  
  
“Thanks.” He says, because he feels like he should thank a house that helps teleport his fiancee up and down the steps, you know? The house doesn't say anything back, of course, but the plants do all turn and look at him, which would be creepy if he wasn't, y'know, a witch. Or whatever.  
  
Back at the hospital, Derek's passed out again, the pack in various places near him. Jackson actually has his hand pressed up against Derek's good shoulder, though he jerks up when Stiles walks in and pretends he doesn't care about being in the room. Stiles sighs. Well it's probably too much to ask for the pack to just fall into line now that Derek's out of the pit.  
  
“You smell much better.” Erica informs him cheekily, and Stiles retaliates by sticking his tongue out at her.  
  
“You're still pretty pale though, are you okay?” Isaac asks him quietly. Damn him for being observant.  
  
“I'm fine. Just had to rig something up at the house so Derek could get up and down the steps. Don't look at me like that Boyd, I got along just fine before you started judging me with your eyebrows.”  
  
“He's just worried.” Erica snaps.  
  
Boyd touches her arm, and she falls quiet. “We've already let one Alpha get hurt. One's enough.”  
  
“I'm not your – oh, dammit.” Stiles practically throws himself down in the chair next to Derek's injured side, and gently takes Derek's hand. Derek stirs, and tightens his grip around Stiles, like he's making sure Stiles isn't going to leave, and then drifts back off. He's not used to healing himself like a human; it must be exhausting.  
  
“Look, guys. I'm not your Alpha. I know I've sort of been doing that job for a bit but. Derek and I aren't – we haven't _talked_ about it.”  
  
Erica makes a rude noise. “If you're waiting for him to talk about it we'll never have a pack again.”  
  
“Scott said you were mates.” Isaac offers.  
  
“Scott needs to keep his damn mouth shut.”  
  
Jackson looks over at Stiles across Derek's chest. “That would make you sort of in charge too, right? Like if anything happened to Derek, you'd...take care of things?”  
  
“Nothing is going to happen to Derek.” Stiles says fiercely, because he is not putting that out into the universe. Not, not, not.  
  
Jackson ducks back down again and looks like he wishes he hadn't said anything. Stiles immediately feels terrible, because even if the kid used to be a dick, he didn't deserve this whole mess. “Yes. Yes, we are. Are you all happy now? I've only known the guy for two months and we're irrevocably tied together, because my magic always messes shit up. So you're stuck with me.”  
  
Isaac's voice is a hoarse whisper, “You're not mad, are you? That you're...stuck with us.”  
  
“No! No. Shit.” This isn't going at all the way he'd planned. Call him old fashioned, but he'd wanted a little romance first before he became magically tied to another person. It's scary okay? Knowing that Derek's the one, he's it, no take backsies. He's fucking terrified. And if that isn't enough, he's somehow become pack mom to a bunch of scared kids when he can barely take care of himself.  
  
“Just. I know it probably makes you all feel better, to have a definite 'Alpha.' Better for your wolves. So I'm telling you, yeah, I'm Derek's mate. But we're leaving it there; it's only for the wolves, okay? As far as the humans are concerned Derek and I are dating and maybe engaged if he bothers to get me a ring, but we really just haven't. Haven't talked about it, and I don't – it's just a lot. So we're. Yeah.” He trails off lamely.  
  
“Yur t'ribble at expla'ng.” Derek slurs, and his grip gets tighter on Stiles' hand for a moment.  
  
“Oh yeah, sure. I'd like to see you do better.”  
  
Derek's eyes are tired, pupils blown because he's definitely back on the good drugs. “Ya see...wen Daddy an' Daddy luv each oth'r _v'ry much_...” He trails off into what is definitely a giggle.  
  
“Okay nope. You're done. You're on waaaaaaaaay too many drugs to be committing to anything right now.”  
  
“I do tho. Love you.” Derek whispers, his eyes sliding shut again.  
  
Everyone's eyes are wide. The pack looks at one another, and they slip up out of their seats together, heading out and leaving Stiles alone with Derek. They are so obviously not even going to get involved in that. Each of them scent marks him on their way out though, rubbing their hands against his hair or shirt, but they don't say a word, for which Stiles is grateful.  
  
Once they're gone Stiles groans and leans into Derek, pressing his forehead against Derek's chest. Derek's hand is slack in his; he's really gone back to sleep. Typical.   
  
“You sir. You are the worst.”  
  
Stiles should be mad. He knows he should be mad, but instead he's just sort of shell shocked. He really hadn't seen that coming. So he just slumps into Derek and tries to think about what he's going to say when Derek wakes up.


	3. Drei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been busy doing Camp NaNo, but it's been a while so I thought I'd post up a chapter. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Standard warnings for my fics; potty mouth Stiles, mentions of violence and torture.

    Derek hates therapy.  There are pretentious humans trying to tell him how to take care of his body, like he doesn't know.  He just needs to find somewhere safe, and rest, and he'll heal in a matter of hours. Except he isn't healing, he's got a cast on, a metal rod in his leg, and his right eye is dead and blank.  And now there is a frazzled man, who's lean enough that Derek could snap him in half if he wanted to, trying to teach him how to walk.  Like he can't figure that out.  These crutches are stupid, he hates them.  He's seriously contemplating gnawing his own leg off.

    Finally Stiles comes and rescues him.  He facilitates the conversation, explains that Derek's not going to be stuck in these forever, and helps him use them to walk around the room a few times.  Frazzled guy looks relieved; apparently Derek is a terrible patient.  They are supposed to do therapy for an hour, but it's been forty-five minutes just getting Derek out of bed, and the guy looks ecstatic when Stiles remarks that they'll be seeing a private therapist, and asks for the paperwork to check Derek out of the hospital and take him home.  Frazzled guy is more than willing to help get Derek out of his hair.

    “You, sir, are a terrible patient.”

    “I've never had to be a patient before,” Derek replies, trying hard to keep the snarl out of his voice.  “How do you deal with this shit?”

    “Well most of our humans don't get their legs smashed by a sledgehammer.”

    “How did you -?”  Derek had made a point to not tell him.

    Stiles' face twists.  “I didn't know for sure, it was in the diagnosis papers.  They didn't think the injury had been caused by a motorcycle crash; torture was suspected.  I had to do some serious magic to stop them from investigating and manually forge a new report.”

    Derek is immediately concerned.  "You've had to do a lot of magic since I got in here.  Are you alright?"

    Stiles shrugs, which means he's trying to avoid the question. "It hasn't been too bad. I went out to the woods and mediated this morning. That helped a lot."

    "I don't want to be a burden."

    "You're not a burden Derek."

    "Really? Because I can't walk, I can't see out my right eye, and I can't even heal my arm because I have a metal fucking rod in my leg!"

    Stiles is not impressed. "Are you done? Because I'd like to fill out your paperwork and go home."

    Home. That's a thing he hasn't had in a really long time.  He doesn't know how he feels about basically living on Stiles' charity, but it would be nice to have a home again. Eventually he'll need to get something for the pack, because they all deserve a safe place they can go and relax together. Actually, the pack needs a lot of things, but having a safe pack home will be a good start.

    Derek had done the only thing he could to keep his pack safe by bargaining for their freedom with his life, but that hasn't stopped him from feeling guilty about it. A pack needs more than to just survive; they need training and companionship. Derek's first pack had been a family first, a pack second. They'd had all sorts of traditions, traditions that Derek wants to pass down. There are so many other things in their world, so many other creatures. Somehow Derek is going to have to manage to teach them, even as crippled as he is.

    "Yes. Yes, I'd like to go home with you."

    Stiles opens his mouth to respond when the therapist, looking rather more put together now, comes back with a clipboard and a thick stack of forms. He hands those to Stiles to fill out, while he hands Derek a bag with medication and a ridiculous amount of instructions in it. He takes Derek through his exit interview, giving Derek a lot of mostly useless information, since Derek will be healing his eye and arm soon enough. The rest of it is just too depressing, such as the pronouncement that he will take at least six months to heal, and that there is a good chance he'll never walk again without a cane. He hopes Stiles is paying attention, because Derek is mostly tuning him out.

    After he's nodded his way through the exit interview, a nurse comes in and starts un-hooking him from all the tubes and  
 wires they had in him. Derek grits his teeth to keep from growling at the woman or taking a snap at her. He hates strangers in his personal space; the last few days have been particularly hellish. He is not looking forward to having his pain medicine wear off, because he can't take the pain from himself.

    They insist on putting Derek in a wheelchair on his way out of the hospital. Stiles assures him it's a law, but Derek hates every minute of it. Perhaps he'll feel better once he's away from the smell of sickness and pity, but Derek feels particularly worthless as he's being wheeled out of the hospital.

    Then there's the matter of getting into Stiles' battered old jeep, which Stiles apologizes for every step of the way.  They stop at a pharmacy for even more medication before finally heading to Deaton's office. Derek stays out in the car while Stiles goes inside to see if Deaton is free to reactivate his healing. He comes out ten minutes later with Scott trailing behind him like the overgrown puppy he was. Derek doesn't like Scott. The teen is his responsibility but refuses to join his pack, and from what he's heard his pack say, is forever getting Stiles in trouble. Not to mention, he is dating Allison Argent, which is a definite deal breaker for Derek. Allison's father has tried to keep her out of the family business as much as possible, but that hadn't stopped Gerard or Kate from showing her the best ways to torture a werewolf, using him as a convenient canvas. The only reason he hadn't killed her, too, was her age and the fact that she always seemed uncomfortable with what they did to him.

    He has to let Scott help him inside, taking the weight of his leg. By the time they get inside his leg is aching and he's shaking with strain.  He ignores the look Scott is giving him because if he doesn't he'd probably hurt the kid. At least Deaton is calm and professional, even if it is in that irritating guidance voice he so often affects.

    "Well Derek, how are you feeling today?"

    Derek glowers at him and gestures to his various injured places.

    "Yes, it has been a rough week for you, hasn't it? Well let's see about getting you fixed up."

    It is difficult to get out of his pants, but Deaton is professional enough that it isn't embarrassing, at least.  The vet has him lay down on the table and lays a sheet over the part of his legs he doesn't need to work on. He directs Stiles to mix several herbs together into a paste, adding a small drop of Derek's blood acquired with a prick of a pin. Deaton takes the paste from Stiles and draws a symbol in Derek's hip, just above where they'd put the rod into his leg.  Then he says a few words that Derek doesn't understand, and the symbol soaks into and under Derek's skin, into a permanent tattoo.

    Then Deaton goes down to the mark he'd put on Derek's ankle and says something else that Derek doesn't understand and runs his hand over it, and what had been a permanent mark wipes off like it had never been there.  Derek's healing kicks back in with a vengeance. Within minutes his arm is completely healed, and his eye is as healed as it's going to get.  It doesn't stop the ache in his leg since his healing is completely blocked off there, but most of the other pain in his body dulls and then fades away, which is a huge relief.

    Deaton steps back then, and Stiles comes over to unwrap the bandages from his eye. Derek slices off his cast himself, flexing the stiffness out of his hand. He still doesn't know how humans do it. If he'd had to keep that cast on for a month he would have gone crazy.

    He still can't see out of his right eye, but the rest of his senses are back, and having his arms back to full strength makes him feel a little less helpless.  "Thanks."

    "You're welcome, Derek.  Have you made arrangements for your physical therapy?"

    Derek looks at Stiles, who says, "I'm going to take him to Simon."

    Deaton actually looks uneasy.  "There's no doubting his skill, Stiles, but his methods..."

    "Yeah, yeah, I know.  But who else is going to do it?  I'm not taking him to a human therapist."

    Deaton shrugged.  "I'm not going to tell you what path to take, Stiles.  Just be careful."

    "We will."

     Derek looks at Stiles.  Apparently they are going to have to talk about who Simon is.  He isn't exactly keen on magic as it is, and having someone who neither Stiles or Deaton trusts being in charge of whether he heals or not is not something he's terribly excited about.  Of course he and Stiles will probably have to talk about a lot of things.  Living with Stiles is bound to be interesting.

    "Alright well.  We've got to go.  Thanks again Deaton."

    "Until we meet again, Stiles."

    Scott helps Derek back out to the car, which is an indignity that he suffers through.  Stiles makes small talk the whole way home, which Derek listens to with half an ear while he looks out the window.  They are heading deep into the forest, away from Beacon Hills.  Derek is glad of that.  He has responsibilities in Beacon Hills, and he can't put them off for too much longer, but not having to smell the ash of his old house and the stench of death from the pit will be - refreshing.

    He can feel the magic emanating from Stiles' house even before they park the car.  It smells like him, like pine and citrus and sunshine.  Stiles brings him his crutches, and Derek hobbles up the drive.  It is paved with a variety of different stones, some of them carved with runes for protection, for well-being, healing, concealment, and to reveal the unseen.  There are probably more, but those were the only ones that Derek recognized.  It is beautiful, but makes getting up the path and into the house difficult.  He slips twice, but Stiles makes no move to help him, for which Derek is infinitely grateful.

    The door isn't locked, but if Stiles is a half-way decent witch, that won't matter.  Derek is impressed by the place, until he sees the spiral staircase.  "Stiles, how am I supposed to get up that?"

    Stiles grins.  "That's the best thing.  Come here and sit one the bottom step."

    "You want me to what?"

    "Come on, come sit!!"

    Derek sighs, and swings his way over to it.  He grips the rails hard and lowers himself down on the bottom step.  "What's this supposed to - holy shit."

    He is on the top of the staircase.  He doesn't know how.  Well, magic, probably.  But that doesn't make it any less incredible.  

    Stiles runs up the stairs, a brilliant smile on his face.  "Isn't that cool?  I asked the house to help you out."

    "You asked-?  No, you know what, I don't wanna know.  Can I...lay down? And maybe get some of those pain pills?"

    "Yeah, sure.  C'mon, bed's this way. Oh.  Um...you don't mind sharing, do you? I just assumed we'd - but uh.  I should have asked you."

    "Is it big enough?"

    "What? Oh yeah, yeah.  It's a king.  I sort of um, sprawl like a starfish. But it won't be a problem, I swear."

    "Whatever you say Stiles.  Pain pills?'

    "Oh, yeah.  Yeah yeah, right.  I'll go get them. You get comfy."

    Comfy.  Yeah right.  Derek puts his crutches against the wall beside the bed, and lowers himself down carefully.  Actually, it's pretty comfortable.  Apparently Stiles hadn't skimped on the bed.  Derek puts his leg up and leans back against the wall.

    Stiles comes up with his medication in one hand and a glass of water in another.  He hands Derek the pills and he swallows them dry, then drinks the entire glass of water.  "Thanks, Stiles."

    "No problem.  Why don't you get some sleep?'

    "I've slept enough, Stiles."

    Stiles sits down carefully next to him.  "Look, Derek, you're healing the human way now.  That means slow, taking your medication, and getting a lot of sleep.  Well, and doing your physical therapy.  But we're going to get that set up tomorrow, after you've gotten some more rest.  Later, do you think you'd be up for going over some paperwork with me?  I've done the best I can with your accounts, but there's so much stuff, Derek.  I don't want to make all these decisions about your life.  It's your money, and I think that you should get to decide what to do with it."

    "I don't really understand all that stuff, either.  But I can look at it with you, if you think it'll help."

    "Mmm."  Stiles gets up and crawls into the bed on the inside, leaving room for Derek.  He cuddles up to Derek's side and says, "It's been a long day, and it's only mid-afternoon.  Let's take a nap, and then I'll make us some dinner, and we can look over mind-numbing paperwork."

    "A nap sounds good.  We should probably...talk about what our relationship means...at some point."

    "Yeah.  Right now?"

    "No."

    That seems to please Stiles, who helps him get comfortable on the bed, and then covers them both up with a warm quilt.  He snuggles up to Derek's good side, and presses his face against Derek's chest.  He smells like sunshine, and contentment, and that helps Derek relax.  There's still so much to do, but for this brief moment, he can let himself feel safe, and loved.  His pain medicine kicks in, and he can feel himself drifting off, so he puts an arm around Stiles' waist, and falls asleep.


	4. Vier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait!!! Season 3B just kicked my ass with sad. Also, I got the first 3 chapters fixed with tense and whatnot. I went over them like...six times. I'm so sorry for all the tense changes!! Hopefully it's all sorted now. 
> 
> Warnings: Pathetically short chapter, language, mentions of abuse, Kate

    Stiles wakes up with two hundred pounds of werewolf aggressively snuggling him. Derek looks fucking adorable when he's sleeping. This is actually the first time he's been able to do this - wake up next to Derek like this. It seems like they've been together forever, but it's only been a few months. He can't even imagine his life without Derek in it and yet they haven't even really had a chance to be a couple. Before now Stiles has only seen him bloody and beaten but not broken, patching him up so he could fight in the pit again.

    Handler. That's what they'd called him, like Derek was some kind of animal. They'd seemed to think he was, apparently, keeping him in a cage that was barely big enough for him to lay down  
 in, with a pile of rags for a bed. Stiles suspected he only had a toilet in his cell because they hadn't wanted to clean up after him. They'd treated him like shit; starved him to make him mean, hurt him to make him feral.  Derek had hardly been a person anymore, when Stiles had gotten there.

    So he'd talked to him. Talked to him about the weather and what he'd had for breakfast that morning, what movies he'd been watching, about whatever stupid television show people were raving about, the kinds of music he liked and how the battle for his dad's health was going. He'd just talked and talked until Derek had talked back to him.

    'Shut up.' Those had been Derek's first words to him. Stiles hadn't been offended though, because he'd talked enough by that point to annoy himself.  Eventually Derek had talked to him more, about his pack and how he'd ended up in the pit. Once Stiles had found out about Derek's pack, he'd sought them out, bringing them what news of Derek he could, and telling Derek how they were doing.

    Derek's pack is a motley assortment of teenagers and young adults, and Derek has never explained how they'd all come to be together. Boyd and Erica are the oldest, at twenty two and twenty one respectively. Boyd works at mechanics shop downtown and Erica works at a strip club. They'd had a long conversation about that; Erica had handed his ass to him, explaining that she was a self aware, empowered woman and that if she chose to work in the sex industry that was her damn business and no one else's. Stiles had conceded the argument.

    Jackson and Scott are still seniors in high school, Lydia graduated the year before and is doing an accelerated program in math at Stanford.  Lydia isn't really in the pack, but she generally goes where Jackson does, and he is in the pack even if he doesn't want to be. Stiles doesn't know Jackson's whole story either, but apparently the same rabid alpha who'd bitten Scott had bitten Jackson too, only something had gone wrong and instead of becoming a werewolf he'd become a kanima with Gerard as his master, and had been fighting in the pit for longer than Derek had, gong to school during the day and ripping things to shreds at night.  It had nearly broken him - the terrified, quiet wreck of a boy is nothing like the arrogant asshole Scott had complained about over the years. He's another one of those things Derek and Stiles are going to have to deal with if they ever hope to have a stable pack.

    Scott should be part of Derek's pack, but he isn't. He'd agreed to form an uneasy alliance with Derek until the rogue alpha had been killed, and then he'd gone off on this huge rant about how he didn't need an Alpha and he'd be fine on his own. Stiles knows better - werewolves need a pack, and Scott's surrogate pack of his mother, Deaton, Allison and Stiles isn't going to cut it forever. Stiles is hoping that once Scott realizes that he and Derek are a thing that isn't going to go away that he'll come around, but no luck so far. So that was a work in progress.

    Then there's Isaac, who is nineteen and living on his own in what Stiles strongly suspects is an abandoned subway station. They'll have to change that at some point, but the one time he'd brought it up, Isaac had gotten an expression on his face that was somewhere between embarrassment and fear, and Stiles had dropped it, for now.  Isaac works at the graveyard, managing it like his father had before he'd gone to prison for child abuse, neglect and attempted murder. He'd also picked up a part time job working for Deaton, but that had mostly been so he'd have an excuse to go to the pit and be near Derek, so Stiles is fairly certain he'll drop it now. Not that Isaac isn't good at it - he has a social way with animals. But he has a girlfriend now, and since Derek is back the pack will probably spend more time together. Isaac is a good kid, and Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't care about him.

    Isaac is dating Morenna, a vampiress and the Marquis' grandsired.  She was the one who'd led Stiles to the pit in the first place; he'd originally been looking for her.  For the most part the Argents had captured mythical creatures with no families, no one who would miss them, either mundane or mythical.  The rest they'd coerced in some way, like how they'd threatened Derek with his pack.  But Morenna had family, even if the Argents didn't know about it.  The Marquis wasn't very close with his grandsired; they were both vampires, and measured time and thus familial visits in years rather than months or days.  But he was still the head vampire for all of California, and when his grandsired went missing, he noticed.  Rather than sending another vampire to find her, he'd sent a message to Stiles, who had a reputation in the supernatural community for getting things done successfully and discretely, managing both the supernatural and mundane worlds. Stiles' search had led him to the pit, the Argents, and then Derek.

    He isn't actually sure if Derek knows that Isaac is dating a vampire.  He'd give Isaac permission, but he'd been pretty out of it when he'd done so.  Isaac had met her when he'd snuck into the pit to see Derek, and they'd gotten along quite well.  The Marquis had refused to step in, but Morenna herself had been instrumental in bringing down the pit.

    Stiles hadn't really realized how terrifying a vampire could be until Morenna had taken out most of the Argents henchmen single-handed.  Stiles had mostly been busy freeing the other people imprisoned there, and killing the one creature he couldn't let loose.  After that, someone had set the place on fire; one of the creatures escaping perhaps, or maybe a last ditch effort by the Argents to take the pit with them in their demise.  Either way he'd rushed to Derek's side and helped get him out of there before the fire could swallow him up.

    Isaac had been the one to find him, actually. He'd heard Isaac's howl and felt his pain, and come running to help. What he'd found was - horrific. Derek had practically been in pieces on the table, and Isaac had been facing off against an enraged Kate Argent with a red hot poker in her hand. Stiles made a quick decision, and had chosen pack over Kate's life.

    A flash of magic made her drop the poker, another momentarily dazed her long enough for Stiles to get behind her and hold her down. Isaac had ripped her throat out. They'd left her body there to burn while Stiles and Isaac carried Derek to Deaton's.  He regretted that they'd had to take a life, but not that it was Kate's. Kate had killed dozens, perhaps hundreds, of others, and gotten off on causing pain and misery. She was better off dead.

    Stiles still doesn't know how many others had perished in the blaze, and he isn't sure he wants to. His father will probably call him at some point, to talk about covering up the incident if nothing else. Among humans in the know, Stiles has the reputation of knowing what to do with the bodies.

    He does, actually; know what to do with the bodies. Stiles always makes sure that whoever he is burying is treated in a manner respectful to the race they are a part of. No matter what someone has done in life, they deserve a proper burial. Even Kate, when it comes down to it. Stiles is a firm believer in helping people rest in peace. He's dealt with too many angry ghosts to do anything but.

    Derek stirs beside him. "What're you thinking about?"

    "What? Nothing. I'm fine."

    "You're a terrible liar."

    Stiles sighs. "Just thinking about finding you."

    Derek makes a wounded noise. "You don't need to think about that. Still. I'm glad you did."

    "Yeah, me too." And that was enough of that. "Do you want some food?"

    "...mmm, I could eat."

    "Excellent. I did some shopping at the organic grocery store. I think you're really going to like it. I'm a damn good cook, if I do say so myself."

    "Sounds amazing. I'll look over that paperwork while you cook, okay?"

    "Yeah. Yeah, I'll put it on the coffee table for you."

    Stiles doesn't offer to help Derek. He knows Derek won't want it, and would just be pissed at him for asking. He gets up carefully to not jostle Derek's leg, and presses a gentle kiss to Derek's lips before heading towards the kitchen. He's going to make the best damn dinner Derek has ever eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's more coming, hopefully soon!! This is just a chapter I had laying around I hadn't posted. I spent most of my recent time editing. But I have ideas...ideas!!! (Goes to go write...)


	5. Fünf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I finally posted another chapter!! Sorry it's been so long. Season 4 has just gutted my Teen Wolf creativity. I'm sure someone out there is enjoying it, but I just can't even watch it any more. Still, I'm going to try to finish this fic, even if it takes me all damn year.
> 
> I've hesitantly put the asexual Derek tag in the fic, but see the end notes for a rather long rant about Derek's sexuality and gender identity.
> 
> This chapter has some past non-con references, and some internalized self-hatred on Derek's part. Mostly canon, but some stuff is tied up with his sexuality and Kate and such.

Derek waits for Stiles to leave the room before he tries to get up. He doesn't want Stiles to see him in pain, and getting up and down always hurts. He reaches for his crutches with one hand, brings them over to the bed and positions them. Then he uses them to haul himself out of bed. He has enough upper body strength to make up for his useless leg, and manages to get out of bed without falling on his face.

Stiles has a bathroom built right off the bedroom, which makes finding it easy enough. He almost falls a couple times while trying to use the bathroom and stand up at the same time, and resigns himself to the fact that he might just have to sit until his leg heals. That thought is grating, and makes him want to curl up on Stiles bed and sleep until he's better.

He doesn't though. He washes his hands and doesn't look at himself in the mirror, and then hobbles back out into the main area of the second floor. The couch and coffee table are easy to find, since the living room is the main part of the floor that all the other rooms branch off from. He finds the kitchen by scent, and stands there watching Stiles cook until the ache in his leg drives him to go sit down on the couch.

Derek hates paperwork. He hates dealing with money even more. Growing up his family had been almost completely self reliant. They grew or hunted most of their own food, they had family gatherings in the woods instead of going into town, they owned a television but hardly ever watched it, and other than their land line, no one had a phone or even really any electronic devices except what they needed for school or work. It isn't like Derek doesn't know what money is, he isn't stupid. He's just never really had to manage it himself. His mom had paid all the bills and given him money on the rare occasion he needed it. He hadn't had a job because he was supposed to be learning how to control himself better and about his family's rituals and traditions.

After the fire, Laura had managed everything. He'd gotten a job and helped bring in money, but she'd still been the one to manage it. When she'd met Stan and decided to join his pack, she'd tried to teach him how to pay his bills and manage his money, but Derek had only paid half attention at best. He'd been more concerned by the fact that he was going to be alone, again. And anyway, managing the insurance money and trust funds was a whole other thing than just paying his rent on time.

So he leaves his way through all the paperwork while Stiles cooks, though he's distracted by the smell of food. He hasn't eaten a good meal in - fuck, forever, and whatever Stiles is making smells _divine_. Derek probably wouldn't have made any headway on the paperwork at all, but Stiles has made notes in the margins in his neat handwriting, detailing what the lawyer has recommended, what decisions he's already made, and what Derek needs to decide upon. From what he can make out, Stiles has set up a checking account for him, so he has money, with an amount in it that makes his head spin. The rest has been put in a long term IRA, which had apparently actually been set up by Laura before she'd left. He hadn't known. Cora and Peter aren't collecting on their share of the money, and it is currently sitting in a long-term savings account, with a notation from Stiles that he doesn't know why the money is separate, but that he hasn't changed it and isn't planning on changing it unless Derek indicates he wants to do something else with it. Derek doesn't have any better ideas; he is going to be laid up and probably staying with Stiles at least until he can get around on his own. He knows at some point he needs a place for his pack, whether that means building a house or buying one, but that isn't anything he wants to do any time soon. For now the money might as well just sit there and gain interest; Derek doesn't know what else to do with it. Fuck, he needs to call his family.

"Hey, you hungry?"

Derek looks up, startled. Stiles is standing in his blind spot, so he has to crane his neck around to look at him. Stiles looks devastated; clearly he wasn't thinking about Derek's eye when he'd talked to him. "Yeah. I hope you made a lot; I have a high metabolism."

"I made a ton. I figured you'd probably eat a lot; Scott eats a ton and he's not an Alpha."

_And not healing either,_ Derek is sure that Stiles is thinking it, but at least he doesn't say anything. Derek can't argue; he has a lot of muscle to put back on, since they'd basically starved him during his time in the pit, he'd need to eat a lot even if he wasn't trying to heal a shattered bone.

"Bring me some of everything?"

"I'll bring you double of everything. Be right back." Stiles leans in and presses another kiss to Derek's forehead. Derek leans into it and shuts his eye. Stiles makes this little inhalation of breath, and then Derek feels Stiles' lips pressing up against his own. He lets Stiles kiss him, opening his mouth and letting Stiles' tongue in. Stiles is a hesitant but surprisingly passionate kisser.

Eventually, Stiles pulls away and says softly, "I'll go get that dinner."

Derek sighs, and shuffles the papers back together and puts them under his chair. Stiles brings in a huge platter of possibly the most amazing home cooked meal Derek had ever seen. There are three whole steaks, lightly seasoned and beautifully rare, garnished with a full salad of organic greens, creamy, buttery whipped potatoes with seasoning, topped with creamed corn and butter, four slices of home made bread and an assortment of fruit pieces. Stiles puts a full glass of milk next to him, and a big stein of amber beer.

"Stiles, this is - wow."

"Yeah, I'm awesome, I know. Dig in."

Part of Derek just wants to devour it all as fast as he can, but the rest of him wants to savor it, because this is definitely the best food he's had in a long time. Even before he went to the pit he mostly ate crap, even though he could taste the chemicals and pesticides from all the takeout he was eating. He just didn't care, and he hadn't cooked food himself since he'd gotten his family burned alive. Peter cooked sometimes, and Cora tried to pawn organic produce off on him, but mostly he just ate whatever was cheapest, and worked out a lot to burn off the extra calories.

"If you're going to cook like this every day, I may never leave."

Stiles practically preens under the praise. "I could be okay with that."

Derek doesn't really know what to say to that, so he digs into his food. It's _amazing,_ Stiles is an amazing cook, and he has to really work to control himself and not just wolf down everything. He heats it all, and seconds, and Stiles looks pleased. 

“I'm glad you like it.”

“I really, really do.”

“Good. Cuz I'm gonna fatten you up; you're too skinny.”

“Says the guy who practically looks like a stick.”

“Hey! I have a high metabolism, okay? It's all the magic.”

“Which you've been using too much of.”

Stiles fidgets uncomfortably. “It's – it's fine Derek. I'm fine.”

He can't tell if Stiles is lying, because he's masking his heartbeat. But Stiles gets up and starts picking up nervously like he doesn't want to talk about it, so Derek knows he's struck a nerve. He gets up and hobbles over to the couch, because he's not going to have an uncomfortable discussion at the table. The pain is sharp, and he wonders for the millionth time how humans deal with this all the time.

"I made an appointment tomorrow with Simon. We have to leave pretty early in the morning."

Derek scowls. "I thought you didn't trust him."

"I don't. But he's good at what he does. And you really need therapy right away. I'm worried about your leg getting stiff."

"Are all human injuries like this?"

"They are if they're as bad as yours. You’re lucky you can even heal this. That's another reason we're going to Simon. You should have healed; there's got to be a reason you didn't. And it can't be wolfsbane or you'd be a lot sicker, and I checked everywhere for mountain ash. She didn't cast a spell on you, did she?"

"No."

"C'mon Derek, you don't have to give me details, but I have to know! Did she use anything - I don't know - out of the ordinary?"

Derek doesn't want to talk about this. He really doesn't. But if someone is going to be messing around with magic and his body then. Well. He has to start trusting Stiles sometime.

"She was burning some kind of incense. Wolfsbane and something else. I don't know. It was sweet. Not enough to kill me, but enough to make me weak. I couldn't fight her."

His hands are clenched into fists. His claws want to come out, but he doesn't let them. His fangs are out though; he can feel them when he grinds his teeth. Stiles takes his hand but doesn't ask him to stop.

"The - the sledgehammer she used. It was. Silver plated, or something. I don’t' know. It had the Argent crest in it. Everything she used did. They weren't clean. Someone else's blood was on them. It could have been anything. I don't know. She put something in the wounds. She wanted them to scar. Said I shouldn't be able to hide inside my skin. Said everyone should be able to see the monster I was inside. It smelled like mistletoe."'

He doesn't cry. Not ever. So clearly there's a moisture problem in here or something because there are tears running down his face. Stiles pulls him in for a hug and Derek just goes with it.

"She wanted me to have sex with her and I said no. So she - I mean that's why she - I should have just done it. It couldn't be worse than this."

"No. No, Derek. Don't think like that. You shouldn't ever have to sleep with someone so they won't hurt you."

"What about you?"

" _Me?_ Derek, I would never hurt you if we didn't have sex. Why would you say that?"

"You're going to want to have sex sometime, right? And I don't know if I - so - if I want you to stay with me then - "

"No!" Stiles actually looks offended.

"No, Derek. I wouldn't. I mean, I've never been in a relationship with an asexual person – do you consider yourself asexual? You don't have to of course, but if you do - but I'm not going to just up and leave you if you won't have sex with me! I don't know what we'll do but Derek, my magic fucked up and activated a mate bond and you're worried about not wanting to have sex with me?"

His voice is small and pathetic and he hates it. "Yes."

"I'm not gonna lie, I like sex. But it's not like we can't work it out. Lots of asexual people are in relationships with non-asexual people, and they make it work. There's options. And I'm like - the king of pining. I had a crush on my first girlfriend for like ten years before we even kissed. So. We'll figure it out. I'm more worried that I bound you against your will."

"Mate bonds don't work like that. I - really like you Stiles. You made me human again, instead of just an animal. That's huge. Mate bonds aren't really something that happens any more, unless there's magic involved. But you can't force one. I like you, my wolf likes you. I'm sorry we're basically married before we got to know each other but I don't regret it, if that makes sense."

"I'm glad you don't regret it. I don't know what I'd do if my magic made you do something you didn't want to do. My magic is supposed to be for healing, not - not binding. Well, I've bound a few lesser demons before but that's an entirely different situation, and my magic didn't even like doing that. Anyways, what I mean is - I love you. Sorry if that's forward or weird and you totally don't have to say it back or anything I just - care about you. I want to date you or, you know, whatever? I told the nurses we were engaged."

"I'm not getting engaged until you get me a nice ring, Stillinski."

Stiles cracks a huge smile. "Yeah, ok. I can do that."

Derek decides he's done enough talking for the day; hell for the week, but he has one more thing he needs to do this evening. He really needs to call Cora and Peter and let them know he's alive. Though they would likely feel it if he were to die, if they find out from someone else what's happened, he'll never hear the end of it. But for the moment, he lays there in Stiles' arms in silence, just breathing in the scent of him. It's soothing. If he had any doubts about Stiles becoming his mate the scent would have quelled them. It's just so perfect. It had soothed him even in the pit; brought him back from the feral edge of the wolf. He'd meant it when he'd said Stiles had saved him. He'd been so far gone, he hadn't even known he'd lost his way.

"I need to call my family." He says, when he can't put it off any longer. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Yeah, sure. Er. Are they going to come over here tonight?"

"No." Derek doesn't think he could handle their reactions - whatever that might be - to his mangled appearance. "I'll probably tell them to stop by tomorrow night, or maybe the day after? I won't be able to keep them away long."

"You'll be pretty sore after therapy. But the rest of the pack is going to probably crash here after and pamper you."

"How do they even know?"

"I texted them already." Stiles waggles his phone at Derek.

Derek rolls his eye. "Why?"

"Because they're worried about you, and you don't have a phone, so they text me."

"They're using you as an Alpha surrogate."

"Yeah, I know. Does that bother you? Because I swear I'm not trying to usurp your authority or anything. They just worry, and I worry, and I want to make everyone happy."

"No. It means - "

"That I'm the Alpha's mate?" Stiles sounds pleased; smug, even.

"Yeah."

"Call your family. I'll be downstairs; holler if you need me. I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

"I'm sor-" Stiles puts a finger to Derek's lips. He contemplates biting it off.

"I'll see you later."

Derek nods, and suspects he'll be asleep by the time Stiles comes to bed. He hasn't known Stiles for long, but he has the distinct impression Stiles is a workaholic. He'll have to do something about that when he can walk again.

He sighs, and stops putting it off. He dials the number they'd agreed on before his family went into hiding, and hopes they've kept the number active. It rings six times before it's picked up, by a breathless and worried sounding Cora.

"Derek?!"

"Hey Cora."

"Derek, where the fuck are you?"

At least he knows she cares. "I'm safe. The Argents are dead; well, the ones that really matter. I don't know how much you've heard."

"We haven't heard anything. I barely leave the house. We go grocery shopping at night. I take my classes online. I've been worried about you pretty much every moment of every day, and you're 'fine?!'"

"Cora, calm down," he says, letting a little of the Alpha creep into his voice. "Is Peter home?"

Cora huffs, and he knows she's still pissed, and is liable to stay pissed for a while, but it's important that he let his uncle know he's alright. Peter is - difficult. He's never really forgiven Laura for making Derek Alpha instead of him, and has never really acknowledged Derek as his proper Alpha, either. At some point they'll have to settle it, but Derek doesn't know when he's going to be able to put Peter in his place, physically. But he can't let that can't stop him from dealing with it as much as he can right now.

There's a slight distortion as Cora calls, "Peter!" And then growls something that might be, "I missed you, you jerk," before the phone is passed off and Peter practically purrs into the phone, "Derek. How nice to hear from you."

"Peter."

"As monosyllabic as ever, I see. Are things - taken care of?"

"Gerard, Kate and Victoria are dead, along with most of the rest of the hunter contingent. The leftovers are arrested or fled, aside from Chris, who's too busy mourning to come after anyone."

"He always was the smart one of the family."

"You and Cora can come see me tomorrow evening. There's a pack meeting."

"And where, exactly, are you setting up shop?"

"Stiles Stillinski's house."

He can practically hear Peter's eyebrows raise. "A witch Derek, really? He's not known for being neutral."

"Stiles does what he wants. And he wants the Pack safe."

"I suppose we'll see."

"You can come over after dinner. I'm not making Stiles feed everyone."

"I'm sure you'd prefer he just feed you," Peter says, and doesn't even try to hide the leer in his words.

Derek hangs up. He doesn't like talking to his uncle. Even though the words he says aren't overly threatening, he has this way of speaking that just sets Derek's nerves on edge.

He sorts through the paperwork for another hour or so, before giving up. He's signed just about everything; anything else they needed could be done at the bank or at a lawyer's office. He leaves it on the table and gets up, then swings his way over to the bathroom to brush his teeth and piss before bed. Stiles apparently bought him a toothbrush, at some point.

When he limps back to the bed, there is a full glass of water and his pills on the bedside table. The room smells like Stiles; it's soothing. He puts his crutches against the wall, hops over to the bed and sits down carefully, takes his pills, and lays down with a groan. He doesn't know how he's supposed to make it through six months of this. Every little shift in movement causes pain to flare through his leg, even with the pills dulling the edge of it. He's convinced he'll never fall asleep, right up until the medication kicks in and he passes out.

The morning light filtering in through the window wakes Derek early. Stiles had come to bed at some point during the night; a warm body against Derek's back. His arm is flung across Derek's waist, his legs just far enough away from Derek not to jostle his injuries. Stiles' head is on his shoulder, breathing softly into his ear. He's comfortable, apart from the steadily growing ache in his leg. It bothers him a bit that he can't see Stiles; he's on his bad side, and no matter where he looks it's just blank and black. He's not sure he'll ever get used to just having half his senses gutted like that. But he'll take this over the Pit any day. He has his pack, he has Stiles, and he'll get better, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Derek's sexuality:
> 
> I've attempted to write asexual characters in the past with limited success. However, I'm determined to keep trying until I've gotten it right. Derek in this fic is more ace spectrum than strictly asexual; he's not gone to a therapist, so he doesn't even really know/have his sexuality nailed down. He uses the label asexual, because it's the easiest term for him to use to explain how he feels, when he even bothers to be open about it.
> 
> I've also probably made Derek a bit out of character here, since he explains his sexuality and gender identity quite a lot more than I think Derek actually would. However, leaving it open to interpretation has caused quite a few hurt feelings among my readers before, so I don't think it's unreasonable to have Derek work out how he feels with someone like Stiles.
> 
> Derek explains himself quite thoroughly in the chapters to come, but he considers himself asexual genderfluid. He still prefers male pronouns, at least for now, though he's considering neutral pronouns. More about his gender identity in coming chapters.
> 
> His sexuality is complicated, which, honestly, everyone's is. I'm trans myself, which isn't the same at all, but one thing I've learned in therapy is that everyone's experience is different and valid, and I imagine the same applies to people in the ace spectrum. Derek doesn't ever desire sex himself, though he likes to please a partner every now and then, and believes that he can damn well have sex if he chooses. I try to make the consenting situations very clear.
> 
> However, he's also an Alpha werewolf, and I imagine that hormones run high in Alphas around the full moon. He's generally horny then, and does a lot of masturbation, which ends up with mutual masturbation and sometimes sex now that he's with Stiles. I truly hope this doesn't offend anyone. I'm trying to find a way to reconcile how Derek feels with how his inner wolf likely feels. Regardless, I'll mark any chapters that have sex with an asexual character in them, and they will always be consensual.
> 
> Thus ends the mini-rant on Derek. He's a tricky bastard to write. I hope you all enjoy the fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Comics/critique is always welcome! I'm working on a ton of fics right now, so it'll probably be several weeks between chapters. Comments make me write faster though! Enjoy! :3


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